Rose Campion and the Curse of the Doomstone

by Lyn Gardner

  Rose pulled a face, remembering the night there had been a near riot at Campion’s, when the audience had taken against Aurora when she was still performing as the Infant Phenomenon.

  Molly left the stage and the band struck up. There was a clash of cymbals. The Illustrious Gandini was about to appear. The crowd quietened and leaned forward, ready to enjoy themselves. Rose glanced around. She was surprised to see the man with the peacock waistcoat and handlebar moustache who had told them about the Doomstone leaning casually against the bar, and even more surprised to see that he and Billy Proctor were deep in conversation. He couldn’t have known who she and the others were when he chatted to them at the theatre, and he hadn’t been one of their party, so it was an odd coincidence that he had ended up at Campion’s too. He saw her looking his way and tipped his top hat at her with another friendly wink, as if his being there was the most natural thing in the world.

  The two men assigned to protect the Star of the Sea moved closer behind Lydia, so that she was hemmed in from the rear. Edward was sitting on one side of her and Thomas took a chair to the other side. Rory sat beside her father, and Effie was perched on Rose’s knee next to Thomas. Stratford-Mark was also sitting at the table, drumming his fingers as if impatient. Rose couldn’t help thinking that outside of his own domain, the Pall Mall, he seemed a little diminished. Amy had somehow wriggled her way between the two guards, so she was standing as close as possible to Lydia, like a third little shadow. She kept glancing around nervously, as if fearing an imminent attack on her employer and ready to repel it.

  Many of the rest of the party who had come from the Pall Mall were at the bar. But a number of Campion’s regulars had crowded around their table too. Jem was there with Belle Canterbury, as were Lottie and Tessa and several other ballet dancers, and Tobias Fraggles had found himself a spot close to Lydia. It was so cramped that everyone was pressing up against everyone else to try and get a better view. Billy Proctor squeezed his way through the throng with a tray and delivered champagne, hot brandy toddies, lemonade and platters of oysters, sprats, kidneys and poached eggs to the table. Ophelia the cat, who had been sitting on the edge of the stage, jumped down and padded through the hall, settling under the table and rubbing herself against Rose’s legs. Rose reached over for a sprat and dropped it under the table for the cat. Ophelia purred her thanks.

  The gaslights suddenly fluttered. There was a flash of flame, which made many in the audience scream, and Thomas half rose to his feet – any naked flame on the stage area with the lights was an accident waiting to happen. But before he could fully stand up the flame died, there was a big puff of smoke and, as if he had suddenly materialised from nowhere, the Illustrious Gandini could be glimpsed on stage wreathed in plumes of smoke. He walked forward. The audience clapped and cheered wildly as they examined the Great Wizard of the North with interest. He was a tall, thin man with exceptionally long, lanky legs and a thick black beard and moustache. His green eyes glittered in a pale face that couldn’t be described as handsome but which drew the eye. He wore evening dress under a crimson cape covered in tiny silver stars, and on his dark head was a small bejewelled ruby-red fez. The overall effect was mysterious and exotic. Rose and Thomas leaned forward. Was the illustrious Gandini going to be worth his hefty fee?

  Gandini bowed to the audience, and with a knowing smile reached into his pocket and produced a shiny shilling. Rose noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. There was a sheen of sweat on his top lip. He raised the shilling up into the air so that everyone could see it. Then, rotating it so that it caught the light, he placed it very deliberately in the open palm of his raised left hand. One by one his fingers closed over the coin and it gradually disappeared from view until all the audience could see was his raised clenched fist. Then with a flourish he passed his right hand in a quick circular motion over his fisted hand as if performing a spell, and opened the palm of his left hand wide. It was completely empty.

  There was gasp from the crowd, followed by wild applause. But the Illustrious Gandini put a finger to his lips to quieten them. He walked down the steps in front of the stage and, pushing past the tables at the front – including one where three men were drinking brandy – he made his way over to the table next to Rose and the others.

  “Excuse me, sir,” he said to an elderly man, and he reached behind the man’s ear and pulled out a shiny shilling. The audience laughed. The Illustrious Gandini flipped the coin in the air and then handed it to the man. Gandini’s eyes sparkled like a shifting sage-grey sea.

  “Keep it, sir; a memento for you and your lovely wife of your evening together.” He bowed low to the elderly man’s companion, and the audience warmed to his gentlemanly air. Then he turned and started walking back towards the stage. But as he reached the table closest to the stage where the three portly, red-faced men were sitting, he swivelled back to the audience and then asked the men, “Have any of you gentlemen mislaid anything?”

  “No,” said one of the men. But then he patted his waistcoat. “My watch! My watch is missing!”

  “So’s mine!” said both the other men simultaneously, a note of concern in their voices.

  “No need to panic, gentlemen,” said Gandini, and he pulled all three of their watches from the depths of his cape and laid them on the table. “The Illustrious Gandini does not steal, he merely borrows.”

  The men clapped wildly and so did the rest of the audience. Gandini seemed in complete control. The colour bloomed in his cheeks again. His hands were steady. The magician took a bow, shook hands with each of the gentlemen, clapped them each on the shoulder and turned to mount the stairs back on to the stage. But then he spun round again.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, a twinkle in his eye, “I fear that all three of you are ridiculously careless with your timepieces.”

  Once again the men registered their loss as Gandini pulled the three watches from his cape once more, and the audience dissolved with laughter at the trio’s blustering bewilderment.

  “They’re plants: friends of the wizard. There’s no magic here,” shouted a pockmarked youth with a livid scar on his cheek, who was standing at the edge of the auditorium, slouching against the wall. Rose turned. It was one of the Tanner Street boys. They were always trouble. Gandini smiled lazily and sauntered over to him. Rose held her breath. You didn’t mess with any of the Tanner Street boys.

  “You do not believe in my magic?” he asked the youth politely.

  “Nah, it’s all a set-up; you’re just tricking us,” said the young man, an aggressive, drunken edge in his voice.

  “Sir is free to believe what he wishes. If he has seen with his own eyes and still doesn’t believe, I will happily refund your price of admission,” replied Gandini very calmly.

  “Yeah, why don’t you do that? I’ve seen enough. It’s rubbish.” There were some boos from the audience; they didn’t think it was rubbish.

  “I’ll get my money,” said Gandini, and he turned back towards the stage. But he had taken just a few steps when the youth, infuriated by Gandini’s unruffled politeness and the boos from the crowd, lurched after him. The lad had only taken a stride or two when his trousers slipped down around his ankles. As the audience realised what had happened they began to break out in gales of mocking laughter. Nobody liked the Tanner Street boys. Even their mum had been heard to observe that they were a menace.

  “Oh dear,” said Gandini, holding up the young man’s belt. “You seem to have been very careless and lost your trouser belt.” The audience screamed with delighted laughter. For a second it seemed as if the Tanner Street boy was going to punch Gandini, but as if reading his mind, the Wizard of the North clapped him on the shoulder and said, “A free tankard of porter for my young friend, please, for being such a good sport.”

  Rose caught Thomas’s eye. They both knew that Gandini was simply using sleight of hand to bamboozle the audience with his tricks, but it was the way he was mentally manipulating them that was so fascinating. L
earning to be a first-rate magician took years of hard work, but Gandini had appeared to spring from nowhere. There had been no years of working his way up the bill on the northern music-hall circuit and refining his act performance by performance for him. He had just appeared with a flourish, like a puff of magic itself, and was immediately in demand. He cultivated the air of a man of mystery. It made Rose wonder what he was doing here at Campion’s, when he could have his pick of any hall, including much larger places where the fees would be a dozen times what Thomas could ever offer.

  Gandini was now in the middle of a card trick, in which a young woman who he had led from her seat in the audience up on to the stage had randomly selected and marked a card, the queen of diamonds, without Gandini – who had been blindfolded – seeing it. She had then returned it to the pack. Gandini, still blindfolded, was now shuffling the pack energetically. Then with a flourish he took the very top card from the pack and held it up. It was the woman’s marked queen of diamonds. There was loud applause as Gandini removed his blindfold. The audience were completely gripped. They could not take their eyes off Gandini, watching his every move and trying to work out how he was fooling them. Even those right at the back of the hall by the bar had fallen silent. Several had weaved their way forward through the crowd. Rose noticed that the man with the handlebar moustache from the Pall Mall was now hard up by their table, just behind the men guarding the Doomstone. The Tanner Street boy was there too, his temper recovered by a free drink. Gandini kissed the hand of the woman from the audience and encouraged the crowd to give her a round of applause as he led her back to her seat. As she went to sit down, she gave a little gasp. There on her chair was the queen of diamonds that she had marked! She held it up to the audience and there was a buzz of astonishment before more enthusiastic applause.

  Gandini bowed again, just as Billy Proctor arrived at Rose’s table with more champagne and extra glasses. Gandini had gone to stand behind a small table situated on the left-hand side of the stage. The table was covered in a dark-green velvet cloth. Gandini removed the cloth and held up the table, twirling it in the air and demonstrating to the audience that it had no hidden compartments. He put down the table and covered it again with the velvet tablecloth, and then he took off his red, jewelled fez, showed the empty interior to the audience and placed it upside down on the table. The gaslights hissed and flickered. There was a puff of smoke that seemed to come from inside the fez, and then the sound of fluttering wings. Suddenly a dove flew out of it, followed by another, and another.

  “Everyone count the doves!” commanded Gandini. The audience gasped and squealed and their eyes grew as round as saucers as bird after bird emerged from the tiny fez and flew in a circle around the Illustrious Gandini’s head. The audience started counting out loud.

  “One … two … three…” They couldn’t believe what they were seeing as more than a dozen white doves flew out of the small red hat and just kept coming. It was impossible! The audience went crazy, laughing and shouting out their pleasure.

  A woman’s piercing scream cut across the clamour. Lydia rose to her feet, pushing her chair away and forcing the crush of people around the table to step backwards. She was pale and shaking, and she had her hand to her white neck. Small droplets of ruby blood were clearly visible on her neck and smeared across her hand. She clawed at her neck, her eyes full of terror and shouted, “Somebody has tried to kill me. The Doomstone! The Doomstone has been stolen!” Then she fainted dead away, and would have fallen to the floor if Edward had not caught her.

  For a split second it was clear that some people thought this might be all part of the show. But the blood was definitely real, and Gandini looked shocked and bewildered. Amy screamed and then began to whimper. The cry of “Murder!” went up from several corners of the hall. Mayhem erupted all around Campion’s. The two men who had been guarding the Star of the Sea looked wildly around and started yelling for the coppers. Thomas called for a doctor, and a man stepped forward to help. The audience were on their feet, pointing at Lydia and shouting.

  “Somebody cut ’er throat to prig that gem!”

  “It’s the curse, the curse of the Doomstone!” shouted Effie, her eyes wide with fright.

  Amy looked terrified out of her wits, as if wishing that she was anywhere else but Campion’s. Gandini seemed simultaneously frightened and angry. Billy Proctor had a frown on his face. Stratford-Mark was sweating profusely, and looked both excited and terrified. Edward had wrapped his white silk evening scarf around Lydia’s slender neck to stem the blood and was fanning her face. The doctor who had come forward kneeled down beside Lydia. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned quietly. Thomas strode up on to the stage and raised his hands to quieten the crowd.

  “I’m afraid that the show cannot go on tonight. There has been a serious accident. I’m sorry but everyone must leave immediately.”

  Some people were already making their way to the door – they didn’t want to be around when the Blues arrived. Others were shuffling closer to have a good gawp at Lydia. This was so much better than any show.

  “Mr Campion is right, people should leave. But not quite everyone,” said a commanding voice, and a man of about fifty with dark sideburns and a pleasant, open face moved up on to the stage. “I am Inspector Cliff of Scotland Yard. Most of you can go, but I would like to talk to anyone who thinks they saw the attack on Miss Duchamps. I shall also need to speak to everyone sitting at the same table as Miss Duchamps, Lord Easingford and Mr Campion, and all those crowded around it.” He pointed at the Tanner Street boy who was trying to creep towards the door.

  “And that definitely includes you, young man.” He nodded to a policeman who had just arrived, who took the protesting Tanner Street boy’s arm. The inspector turned to the two bodyguards, who looked stunned as if they couldn’t believe that the diamond really had been stolen.

  “I’ll want to interview you both immediately.” He turned to Gandini. “I will need to talk to you too, sir.”

  The magician nodded. He looked genuinely shaken. “Is she all right?” he kept asking anxiously. “She’s not dead?” Stratford-Mark was asking the same question urgently. The inspector shook his head.

  Rose glanced around. Amy was snivelling quietly. Billy Proctor was back at the bar, wiping glasses and looking entirely unconcerned. Lottie, Jem and the others were all whispering to each other. There was somebody missing: the man in the peacock waistcoat who had spoken to them at the Pall Mall and told them about the Star of the Sea was nowhere to be seen. He must have slipped away. Rose frowned. He had been standing very close to Lydia, and the inspector had asked everyone crowding around the table to stay, so why leave – unless he had a reason why he didn’t want to be interviewed by the police? In fact, why had he come to Campion’s at all? He hadn’t introduced himself when he started talking to them, and they had all been so fascinated by what he had to tell them about the diamond that Rose hadn’t noticed, but now she wondered who he really was and whether his presence at Campion’s tonight was just a coincidence.

  “I assume that you can make a room available for me, Mr Campion,” said Inspector Cliff, “so that I can start my investigation into the attempted murder of Miss Lydia Duchamps and the theft of the Star of the Sea.”

  5

  Rose, Aurora and Effie were downstairs in the Campion’s auditorium. It was mid-morning and all three of them were yawning because they had got to bed so late. Campion’s was still full of policemen who were searching the place from top to bottom for a second time, looking for the missing diamond. The previous night, straight after the show, the police had taken apart the auditorium and the stage, Thomas’s study and Gandini’s dressing room. The magician hadn’t seemed in the least bit offended by the attention, even when the inspector had asked to do a body search – a request he had made of all the men present. Gandini had merely raised an eyebrow and said with an amused smile, “Come now, Inspector, you must know that I’m not really a magician. I was never anywhere
near Miss Duchamps. I would have to be able to do real magic to have flown over to Miss Duchamps’s table, slit her throat and stolen the Doomstone while all the time appearing to be standing on the stage with doves flying around my head.”

  The inspector nodded and looked uncomfortable, but replied pleasantly, “I know it’s all smoke and mirrors, sir, but I can exclude nobody from my investigation at this stage.”

  Gandini had smiled easily. “I will help you in every way I can, Inspector. I have nothing to hide and I don’t like seeing a beautiful woman nearly getting her throat cut. It offends me.”

  The girls had a copy of The Times spread out on the table in front of them. Rose had already read aloud the ecstatic review of Edward’s Hamlet to the others, not just once, but three times. She had just finished reading out a long report on what had happened last night at Campion’s for the second time.

  Effie’s eyes were wide. “Read that bit again, Rosie, ’bout the doves and Lydia screaming an’ clutching her neck with bloodied hands as if a vampire had sunk his fangs into her throat.”

  Rose laughed. “I don’t think there’s a single word about vampires in the report, Effie. You’ve made that up. If you’d just let me try to teach you to read and write you could read the story yourself, and as many novels and stories about vampires as you wanted.”

  Effie loved stories but she couldn’t read or write properly. She said that when she looked at a page all the letters seemed to be dancing around as if on purpose to confuse her. She was embarrassed by her lack of skill, and only Rose, Aurora and Thomas knew the true extent of her difficulty, even though Rose had pointed out that probably at least half of those working at Campion’s found reading and writing a challenge. But Effie would not be comforted about her failure to read and write.